Flashback
by Michelle Birkby
Summary: When Sara takes Grissom some bugs to study, they find themselves flashing back to 'Pin Me Down'


"This sucks"

"Isn't that what vacuum cleaners are supposed to do?"

Sara Sidle shot Warrick the kind of look that let him know, very clearly, that his sense of humour wasn't appreciated right now, and went back to the pile of dust on the table.

She did expect the contents of a vacuum cleaner bag to be filthy. And she's done worse jobs. Liquefied body remains came to mind. It was just....there were things in the bag. Moving things. She knew there were carpet bugs in there, and other things. It's just...she hadn't been expecting cockroaches. Or woodlice. Or some kind of weird, flat bug that she didn't recognise, and she silently suspected would have an evil bite. And ants. More than a few ants.

And then a spider the size of a dinner plate shot out of the pile, and Sara, much to her mortification, screamed.

"You screamed." Warrick pointed out, grinning from across the room, with his nice, clean, tidy pile of bullets.

"It headed in your direction." Sara pointed out, just a little gleefully, as Warrick looked round quickly, suddenly nervous. He sat back down on the stool, and lifted his feet up, looking behind him, so he didn't see Sara scoop the spider up, place him in a particularly large specimen jar, and leave, grinning wildly.

"You should be careful." She said, as she left. "Some of these bugs can fly. Hate to think what would happen if they got caught in your hair."

"Sara!" Warrick cried, exasperated. She was teasing, he knew she was teasing. Nevertheless, later on Lindsay would ask him innocently if he had nits, because he just kept scratching his head so much.

Sara was still laughing at Warrick's face as she reached Grissom's lab. His door was open, but she expected him to either not be there, or be so buried in a book or magazine he would barely notice her presence. Instead, although he had a magazine in his lap, he was looking up, straight at her, and she faltered a moment, not expecting to meet his gaze.

"Sara." He said, and he almost smiled, she could have sworn.

"I met some old friends of yours." She said. He frowned a little, until she pulled out a stack of jars from behind her back, including the spider. She out them down on his desk, in front of him, enjoying the look of unmitigated, obsessive joy that spread across his face as soon as he saw them.

"And where did you find these?" he asked, his face lit up, fumbling to push his glasses back on to his face.

"Vacuum bag." She said, carelessly, as if she didn't enjoy showing him what was obviously going to be the highlight of his day, maybe his week. Perhaps even his month. "Vic found dead in his apartment, no name, newly moved here, no-one has any idea where he came from, had just vacuumed."

"Well, I can tell you, he's English." Grissom said, picking up the jar with the woodlouse. "From the country, rather than the city. South of England."

"How can you possibly tell that?" she asked, incredulous, and more than a little bit amazed. He motioned her down, towards the desk. She sat down, opposite him, and leaned forward, inches away from Grissom, the jar between them.

"Sara, meet Ligidium Hypernorum. Ligi, meet a friend of mine, Sara." He said, smiling a little. She looked at him, dubiously, although secretly, she smiled a little at his description of her as a friend. "Ligi lives in England, and feeds on damp leaves. He wouldn't live long here in the dry atmosphere of Vegas. Hence, your victim, who you say had recently moved here, bought Ligi with him...therefore..."

"He used to live in the English countryside." Sara said, smiling a little. It had been ages since she'd been this physically close to Grissom, feeling his breath on her, his eyes holding her attention. Not since...

_"Pin me down" and then he moved in on her, his hands capturing her wrists, not harshly, but gently, almost caressing her into position. He had held her back against the sheet, and he hadn't looked at the blood, or the way her wrists lay back against the sheet, he was looking at her, right into her eyes, and Sara was almost sure there was something very primeval in the scientist's eyes right then..._

She shook herself back to the present. She had told herself she really wasn't going to think about that.

"And the cockroach?" she said, pulling back, away from Grissom. "Just a normal cockroach, right?"

He picked up the jar, puzzled. He wasn't puzzled at Sara. He was puzzled by himself. Years he'd worked with Sara. Been aware of her intelligence, and her beauty, and her mind, liked her, protected her even, but had always held himself very much in check around her. He hadn't had any control issues around Sara, (unlike Catherine, who appeared to revel in her lack of control issues around good-looking men, and enjoy it). But lately...lately his reactions around Sara were becoming...instinctive.

_"Pin me down." And all he intended to do was just that. Re-enact the crime scene. But the second he had his hands on her delicate wrists, and had her held close to him, so close he could see the fine individual lines in the dark iris of her eyes, he'd forgotten the crime. All he had wanted to do was just kiss her. Just lean forward...and it would only have been a matter of centimetres...lean forward, and kiss her, and no matter what Sara was saying, what point she was trying to prove, all Grissom's head had been filled with was pure...or rather, not so pure...instinct_

"Not so common." He said, slowly, trying to pull himself back to the present time. Why was he finding it so difficult to concentrate?

"It's, um..." he cleared his throat, very aware that Sara was standing opposite him, waiting for an answer. "It's Periplaneta Americana...the American cockroach. It's outnumbered by the German cockroach, which is the bug we're more used to in our homes. This bug normally lives in large buildings."

"Airport terminals?" she asked, wondering why Grissom was having trouble meeting her eyes, and being thankful that he didn't. The flashback to Grissom pinning her down

_"Afterwards, when he got up, he put his hands on the sheet for leverage."_

"_Like this." And Grissom's hands moved down, brushing her arm gently on the way, sending shivers through her, and came to rest beside her hips, and she was aware, just then, that their hips were nearly touching, that all he had to was take a tiny step forward, and their entire bodies would be touching, and when she said 'Yes', she wasn't agreeing with his analysis of the crime scene_

Yes, much better she forget that. Instead, she picked up the jar with the increasingly agitated spider in it, and said,

"Are you going to introduce me to this?"

"Just a moment." Grissom didn't recognise it, and stood up, perusing his book shelves. He tapped the spines of the books, musing to himself, what was it, where was it, he had a vague memory tugging at the back of his mind..

_"Yes."_

_And all he wants to do is kiss her, and he thinks he might. He will, because right now, he can't escape from the heat inside him, and the answering desire in Sara's eyes_

"Well, this confirms it. Definitely English. From somewhere near water. This is the Dolmedes Fimbriatus."

"Is he." Sara said, picking up the jar, and looking at the brown spider inside it. It had long, dark legs, and a body shaped like an eight, outlined in white.

"Is she." Grissom corrected gently, and she realised he was standing behind her, at her shoulder, so she could feel his breath on her neck. He reached towards the jar, tapping it gently, talking softly, seeming unaware of the effect his proximity was having on her

_I want him to kiss me. I really really want him to kiss me, and if he doesn't, I shall lean in a little and do it myself._

_Yeah, right, Sara. Make the biggest mistake of your life so you get a moment's satisfaction? You know he doesn't want you. You've already offered as much as you're prepared to give. So move, now before you never move again._

_His eyes are so blue. And so passionate. And if he were any other man, you'd swear there was desire there. His eyes burn for you._

_So move now, before you get scorched._

"She?" Sara asked, swallowing. He saw the fine hairs of her neck blown by his breath, and the goosebumps appearing, and he knew he ought to move, for the sake of his and her sanity, for the sake of their past and her future, for the sake of everything restrained and ordered and controlled in his life, he ought to move to the other side of his desk...but from where he stands, he can see her profiled against the light, her eyes flickering back to him, her mouth open, her hand millimetres away from his on the jar she holds, and it's the most beautiful, compelling sight he's ever seen.

"The females are bigger then the males. He can catch flies, and insects, but she can catch whole fish. Small ones, but still, she is the stronger. And he has to do all the work to attract her. He has to dance for her, and she has to choose whether to accept or reject him. The choice is all hers."

It's too much, she can feel the heat rising, she's aware that her bare neck must be flushing red with blood rushing to her head.

He can see the flush spread up her porcelain skin, and he follows it's progress, knowing what it means, fascinated by what's happening, humbled that he's caused it.

"Grissom..." she says, but she's turning away, and he pulls her arm to turn her back to face him before she's gone.

"The ant." He says, mildly, but his eyes are beginning to dart fire again, and she's not sure if it's wise to stay.

"The ant." She agrees, stepping back from him. He moves to the desk, but not around it, and perches on the edge, so now, she is taller then he is. He picks up the jar...then frowns.

"Did you touch this?" he asked, suddenly all business again.

"I think so, when he escaped from the bag. Why, did I hurt him?" she asked, confused, and worried by Grissom's sudden change in attitude.

"No, but he may have hurt you."

"What? But it's just an ant." Sara said, incredulous.

"Nothing is ever as harmless as it seems. This is a Harvester Ant. It's sting is dangerous. Has the Doc done the autopsy report yet?"

"Only the prelim. He said the vic had swollen lymph nodes."

"Then this..." Grissom said, holding up the jar, "is your murderer."

"Do you think there's more in the bag? I left it in the lab. Warrick's there." Sara said, worried. Grissom reached out and caught her hand.

"It's ok, I have the antidote, and I have bug spray. We'll seal and spray later. I just want to make sure you weren't bitten."

He has hold of her wrist again, and she can feel her breath begin to catch again.

_Pin me down_

"I think I'm ok."

"But you have a scratch on your wrist. Let me just check." His voice is soft, and slow and persuasive, and she finds herself moving in to him. He turns her wrist over, and pushes her sleeve up, so he can see the pale blue lines, her veins, under her translucent skin.

_All I want to do is kiss you_

There's a scratch there, and he raises her wrist a little closer towards him, towards his lips, to study it

_I didn't know he could feel the heat _

"You're ok, I don't think this is caused by the ant."

"Good" and she goes to pull her wrist away, but he holds on.

_"Like this?"_

"_Yes"_

He can still hardly believe he's doing this, but instinct has won, and he will give in gracefully. He raises Sara's wrist to his lips, and kisses it, tenderly, where the skin is thinnest. He hears her gasp, and feels her try to pull away, but he won't let her. Not this time.

_This can't be what he wants. But oh, it's what I want_

She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her, and instead, he's pulling her close. He's still sitting on the desk, so his face is below her, turned up to her. She's afraid he'll talk, disturb the spell she's under, snap her back to reality, but she's also afraid that she will not be able to pull away this time

_Pin me down_

She removes his glasses, slowly, and he reaches up to her face, pushing the heavy hair away from her pale, white cheeks.

_Don't let me go_

There's not a sound but their breathing, deep, fast, sultry

_I didn't intend to start this. I don't want him to let me go._

_All I can feel is heat, and I'm don't know where her's ends and mine begins._

Her hands on his cheeks, and she's tilting his face up to her, and though he makes no sound, his eyes are eloquent, and pleading, and begging her to keep going, don't stop, whatever you do

_Don't move_

Her eyes are dark, and shadowed, but he can see the fervour, the ardour in them, and also the question, and it seems forever before she finally reaches his lips, and they kiss.

The world stops.

Outside, Nick is teasing Warrick about the bugs, and Catherine is talking to Brass about Lindsay, and Greg is spending his lunch-hour testing the unknown vic's blood and Doc Robbins is showing Dave the abnormalities he found and the clock ticks on, and the moon moves across the sky, but in Grissom's office, time has stopped.

He's pulled her close, and she has melted into him, and the kiss is beyond passion, to something he never suspected he was capable of, and she always knew. And when they pull away, as eventually they must, he is breathless, and she is triumphant.

"Let's not talk." She says, suddenly afraid that he will ruin everything. He cocks his head on your side, and she knows she cannot stop him now.

"We have to at some point."

She shakes her head, and moves back, towards the door, and shuts it.

"Grissom." She says. He stands up.

"Yes?"

"Pin me down."

He walks towards her, and time stops again.

THE END


End file.
